


A Bittersweet Existence

by thehedonistspurge



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Coffee Shops, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Sweet Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-08-23 09:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20240317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehedonistspurge/pseuds/thehedonistspurge
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley go on a drive to the quaint countryside of London and stop at a rather kitschy coffee shop. Their taste in coffee is indicative of their personal loves.Or the one where getting there is only half of the journey, Crowley is horrified at the decor and even more scandalized that Aziraphale knows him so well.





	A Bittersweet Existence

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone meet my friend, Han. Han meet everyone. 
> 
> You can thank/blame Han for this fic.

Crowley knew that Aziraphale had _ something _ planned two weeks before Aziraphale proposed a day out in the countryside. It was simply in the way that Aziraphale moved so light and airy at times. Like Aziraphale was floating, Crowley felt. It was dazzling and at those times, Crowley would wonder momentarily how he, a demon was allowed this joy.

Gone were the days that Crowley would live in fear that the Archbastard Gabriel would swoop down from the heavens and drag Aziraphale’s feathered bottom back or that God would smite him if he walked to closed to Aziraphale. But Crowley still feared if not for his sake, then for Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale was not hiding their relationship anymore. If some being _ up there _ caught wind of this, Aziraphale could fall.

Aziraphale had told him before, “Angels fall when they sin.” Apparently, _ love _ wasn’t a ‘sin’. Crowley couldn’t fight Aziraphale’s logic when the angel was smiling at him like he was a fool. He also couldn’t speak when he pondered the implications of Aziraphale’s words.

Lucifer, Satan or the Big Boss downstairs fell because he loved God too much. And well, also because he frankly felt that the dirt beings (humans) belonged under the light beings’ (angels) feet.

It was all semantics because evidently an angel could most definitely _ fall _ because of love.

Despite all that lingering fear, he felt it slip away when Aziraphale had a little flight in his step.

When Aziraphale caught himself acting like that, the angel would try to suppress it for a while. It would come back in full force within an hour. Crowley would never call Aziraphale out on it, he was too busy enjoying the look on Aziraphale.

With each passing day where neither Harpcenter or Hell came down on them with lightning and fire, Crowley found himself relaxing in this ‘blessed’ life as Aziraphale called it.

Crowley found himself a bit more open in going to newer places with Aziraphale rather than their old haunts. On a listless Saturday, Crowley could feel the frantic energy buzzing from under Aziraphale’s skin that sparked all the way to the center of the angel’s being.

Crowley tried not to look too smug when Aziraphale finally asked, “Crowley, would you fancy a drive out?” Aziraphale was sitting down with a pen scribbling in his log book. Aziraphale had the innocent, unperturbed look down but his body language was screaming, ‘Say yes!’

Aziraphale could read hearts but Crowley could read intentions better than any book on Aziraphale’s shelf. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Do you have anywhere in mind, angel?”

Aziraphale had a small smile that made Crowley grin back. Crowley let Aziraphale lead them to the Bentley.

In case it was not known, it can be said that Crowley was an extremely competent driver. He’s been driving since cars were invented and had only ever hit a pedestrian twice. And of course, they didn’t even die so obviously, it doesn’t even count.

You would think that Aziraphale, _ an angel _ who has not been driving as long and does not drive as often as Crowley, would at least have some _ faith _ in Crowley’s driving?

Instead Aziraphale has taken to gripping his seat and the console, asking, no, _ pleading _, “Crowley, would you mind slowing down?!”

Aziraphale made a small sound of distress when Crowley swerved between the narrow countryside lanes.

_ It was utterly ridiculous, really. _

“Angel, I paid for the whole speedometer so I’m going to use the whole speedometer.” Crowley sighed a little dramatically. “And why are you so worried, it’s not like there are any pedestrians-”

“Crowley, watch out for that TREE!” Aziraphale shouted, holding on the passenger side door for dear life.

“Relax, angel,” Crowley drawled, turning his steering wheel sharply, missing the tree by an inch. How they came so close to a tree on the opposite side of the road, Aziraphale would never know.

Crowley ran a hand through his hair. “Have some faith in me, Aziraphale. I am a confident driver.”

Aziraphale was incensed. Crowley could imagine Aziraphale’s wings twitching in exasperation. Crowley was fully prepared for Aziraphale’s booming tirade that it rolled off him like water on a duck’s back.

“YOU nearly drove us into a tree, Crowley!” Aziraphale half-accused, wiping his brow with a tartan handkerchief.

“Confidently,” Crowley quipped. He readjusted his sunglasses and hit the accelerator. Aziraphale was earnestly praying that they both would reach their destination undiscorporated. So much for a _ nice _ trip.

“Crowley, it’s the next left. There should be a sign-” Aziraphale was cut off by the sudden acceleration that sent the Bentley lurching forward into the parking lot of a coffee shop.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished when Crowley pulled the car into the parking lot and slammed the brakes.

“We’re here, angel. What did you have in mind?” Crowley wrinkled his nose, there was less pollution in these parts. It smelled _ fresh_. This was disorienting in more ways than one. _ Were people nicer in the country? Perhaps easier to tempt? _

Crowley saw a few men leering at a woman at the gas station just further up the main road. He heard a wolf-whistle and noticed an immoral intent in the eyes of the pudgiest man. In small towns like this, Crowley would be out of a job.

Aziraphale clambered out of the passenger side door after gathering some of his lost bearings. “I am driving us back, Crowley,” Aziraphale promised, a little too vehemently. There was a strangely determined look on his face.

“Come on, angel. Show me why you’ve dragged us all the way here,” Crowley said, acting all nonchalant.

Aziraphale regained that flighty, happy movement of his. “Well, Crowley, it is a really fancy coffee shop.” Aziraphale pointed at the wooden sign that was shoddily carved with, ‘A Bittersweet Existence.’

“A coffee shop, angel?” Crowley asked as they walked to the front doors together.

Aziraphale gestured as he said, “It’s not just any coffee shop. It has one of the best angel’s food cakes in London.”

Crowley considered Aziraphale’s statement. He was particularly fond of that dessert. Crowley intended to say something but he lost his words when they entered the coffeeshop. Crowley had held the door open for Aziraphale and had seen a glance of its decor before his foot crossed the threshold.

He was gobsmacked when he saw the _ state _ of the coffeeshop. There were portraits of cats, people and automobiles littering across the colourful floral yet somehow geometric wallpaper. There were half a dozen gaudy light fixtures imperiously hanging from the bright yellow ceiling. Crowley spotted a rusty bicycle mounted upside down on one of the walls.

Crowley numbly followed Aziraphale as they went up to the counter that was manned by a single employee. Crowley at this point, plainly put, was _ horrified _.

There were armchairs and tables of every colour strewn about the coffeeshop in no discernable pattern or colour scheme. There was a fluorescent green armchair paired with a short red oak table and a dark blue high seater nestled in one of the corners.

Beside it, was a leather divan and a white tiki table and a bookcase that would not look out of place in Aziraphale’s bookshop.

Crowley had no one to ask except himself. _ What in the world has he gotten himself into? _

Breathing in slowly, Crowley turned away from the main dining area but spotted a pink staircase to his left and wondered what sort of carnage lay upstairs. He didn’t want to know. It couldn’t possibly be worse than what they had in Hell but this was cutting it too close.

Even in his visually overwhelmed state, Crowley heard Aziraphale saying, “It’s nice, isn’t it? Fancy almost?”

_ Fancy was not a word Crowley would use to describe this place. Adjectives more befitting of it were horrid, outdated or- _

“Crowley! What are you saying?” Aziraphale levelled Crowley with a disbelieving stare.

Perhaps then, it dawned on Crowley that he had spoken aloud. That probably explained why he was being glared by the employee. _ Oh, bollocks. _

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a 2 part fic. The second part is almost done!
> 
> Crowley's Fantastic Driving (TM) was inspired by a Good Omens meme by @wrongomens on Twitter. 
> 
> Aziraphale: WOULD YOU MIND SLOWING DOWN  
Crowley: I paid for the whole speedometer so I'm gonna use the whole speedometer.
> 
> Also thanks to Han because they actually wanted me to write a coffeeshop AU but this was the closest I could get to that.
> 
> Drop me a kudos and/or comment. I would love to know your thoughts on it! I promise to answer all comments (though I might be a little slow).


End file.
